


Stolen

by etmuse



Series: redismycolour [6]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Drama, Gen, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etmuse/pseuds/etmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack, Ianto and Gwen take an unexpected adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stolen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for days 6, 8, 14 and 24 of the 'redismycolour' challenge on livejournal, January 2009.

"Jack?" Gwen's voice was shaky. "What's going on?"

"Honestly? I don't know." Jack said, turning to face his two team members. "But at a guess, I'm going to blame the rift."

Just a moment before, the three of them had been walking down a dark street in the outskirts of Cardiff, following up on a series of odd readings. Now they were standing on a country lane in the middle of a snowy winter's day.

It didn't seem outrageous to suspect that the unusual rift readings were involved.

"Well, according to the GPS, we haven't moved," Ianto piped up, waving his PDA. "And since I'm still _getting_ GPS, we can't have been taken back in time to before Cardiff was around.

He shot a quick glance at Jack, belatedly realising that his words could have stirred up unpleasant memories for his partner. Luckily Jack seemed too preoccupied with the _current_ crisis to be thinking about past ones.

"So that means either we ended up in some future where Cardiff has been demolished," Jack began.

"Or Cardiff itself has been stolen," Ianto finished.

Gwen was getting scared. "But how do we tell which? And more importantly, how do we get back?"


	2. Lost

The wind howled around the three weary wanderers as they tramped along the snowy path.

With every step they held out vain hope that civilisation would come into sight, yet with every mile that passed the hope grew thinner.

Nine hours now since they found themselves stranded in this vast deserted countryside, their home city gone. The further they walked, the more they discovered that it wasn't just Cardiff.

Ianto's GPS told them they should have passed through Newport hours ago, but they hadn't found anything but more snow-covered moor land. They'd tried heading for the bay, but that hadn't been there either, more snowy grass all that was found where there used to be sea.

Despite their dwindling hope, they kept walking, stamping their feet against the cold and huddling into their coats.

Worse, the sun was setting, and the temperature had begun to drop even further. The snow had picked up too, and was swirling around them as they crammed close together for warmth.

"I'm beginning to think we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto," Ianto joked weakly, his voice wavering as his teeth chattered. "Despite what the GPS says."

"Me too," Jack sighed. "But then where _are_ we?"


	3. Information

"Am I hallucinating, or is that an actual _light_?" Gwen had asked just twenty minutes earlier. Looking over, Jack and Ianto had momentarily extinguished Ianto's flashlight and confirmed it; she was right, it was a light. Just a speck, at this distance, but a light nonetheless.

Even knowing that there was a more than even chance that whatever was _with_ the light was hostile, they couldn't help but make the decision to head towards it.

As they grew closer, the source of the light became apparent. It was, for all intents and purposes, a hut.

Closer still, and they drew their guns with frozen fingers – not entirely sure they had enough movement in them to shoot, but wanting to be prepared. Just in case.

Even closer. Close enough now to huddle against the walls of the hut – wooden, if you can believe it – and catch their breath. Close enough for Jack to inch over and peek in through the window from which the light was emitting.

Other than a rough table, the hut appeared to be empty.

Leaving Gwen and Ianto close together against the wall, Jack crept around to the front of the small building, pointing his flashlight at the door and spotting a symbol painted there on the wood.

A familiar symbol, even if it had been a long time since he'd last seen it; even if he had to raid the far reaches of his memory to recall what it _meant_.

Creeping back around the edge of the hut, he rejoined Gwen and Ianto. "Come on," he told them, his voice having to fight against the rising wind. "I think it's safe."

Too tired and cold to question his surety, they followed him back around to the door, which was, luckily, unlocked.

"What was that sign on the door?" Ianto stuttered, his teeth still chattering, as they shut it behind them.

Jack rubbed his hands together, trying to defrost them now they were out of the cold outside – although the interior of the hut wasn't _warm_ by any means, it was a definite improvement. "You'll never believe this, but when I was growing up, that was the sign for tourist information."

"So we're in a tourist information office?" Gwen asked incredulously.

"And apparently in the future," Ianto added.

"Based on the evidence, correct on both counts," Jack nodded. "Although that symbol was being used in most areas with a human population by the early 27th century, so it doesn't really help us figure out our exact location. If only…"

He paused, looking around the room. "That's it!" He grinned excitedly at his team. "By the time that symbol is in use, tourist information offices are almost completely unmanned. They're all automatic. We just need to find… aha!"

Leaping forward, he pressed a button on the wall, and a holographic image of a young woman appeared.

"Welcome to Tourist Information," she said. "The date is the 29th of Decimar, and the weather forecast for the next several weeks is cold with scattered snow. For information about specific attractions in this locale, please select from the menu."

Her holographic hand indicated a projected screen with several options.

"She's speaking English," Ianto pointed out in disbelief. "And it doesn't sound any different to 21st century English. I refuse to believe we somehow landed someplace where they still speak that."

Jack smiled at him, impressed, as he often was, at the perceptiveness of his young partner. "You're right, it's unlikely, although even as far as about the 45th century, not impossible. Most of these things are equipped with a low level psychic reader, though. They speak to you in whatever language most of your party will understand."

"And you don't speak Welsh," Ianto smiled back, marvelling a little at the technology.

"Right."

They spent a few minutes interrogating the information hologram, but the only useful information they could garner was that the closest town was 8 miles away – although thankfully in the same direction they'd come from. It would have been agonising to have unwittingly passed right by it.

"We head there in the morning, then," Jack said decisively, although part of him rebelled at the thought of heading back out into the cold. "For now, we need to get some sleep while we can."

Despite an equal lack of enthusiasm for the idea of heading back out, even after a few hours of rest, Ianto and Gwen nodded, piling their coats on the floor to create a space to sleep. Jack similarly removed his greatcoat. It wasn't much of a blanket, but it would have to do.

Later that night, curled familiarly around Ianto, with Gwen an unusual addition to the cuddle, Jack watched them sleep, and hoped he could get them all back where they belonged.

Cardiff. 2008. _Home_.


	4. Hope

"It's so cold," Gwen grumbled as they closed the door behind them and looked out towards the brilliant white landscape.

It had snowed heavily while they slept, and the snow was undisturbed.

"I know it is," Jack said, buttoning up his greatcoat. "But just eight miles in…"

Ianto pointed. "That direction."

"Yes, that direction, there's a town, where we can find out where we are, when we are, and figure out how to get back." Jack's tone was relentlessly optimistic, brooking no disappointments.

And so, with only hope to keep them warm inside, they tramped out across the untrodden snow.


End file.
